


Armor

by pumpkinonwheels



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-14
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-02-04 16:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1786258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinonwheels/pseuds/pumpkinonwheels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d started wearing sleeves more often. Cap sleeves at first. She had a few blouses and dresses with them already—just enough extra fabric to cover her shoulders. It took only a week to realize it wasn’t enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Armor

She’d started wearing sleeves more often. Cap sleeves at first. She had a few blouses and dresses with them already—just enough extra fabric to cover her shoulders. It took only a week to realize it wasn’t enough.

Short sleeves that cut off mid-way down her biceps came next. Then three-quarter length, but she didn’t like them; they felt incomplete, like someone got bored with the sewing and called it good enough. Besides, it still wasn’t enough.

She’d had to go shopping. It was hard to find cute clothes with full-length sleeves in the summer, so she wore the same dress and two shirts every week as she worked on building up her collection.

Near the end of the third week, Digg said, “Cold, Felicity?”

She smiled before she turned from her screens, made sure it wasn’t too wide or too tight. She’d practiced for this. She knew it would be Digg who noticed, so she smiled and shrugged at him like she had in the mirror. “Thin blood, I guess.”

He didn’t answer, just pressed his lips together, nodded, and looked down. It was his Oliver’s-lying-to-me-but-I-won’t-push-it face. She almost apologized under the weight of his disappointment (he’d never had to use that face with her before), but studied her buttercup-colored nails instead.

“Do you want me to turn the thermostat up?” Oliver asked from behind her.

She swiveled toward him. He hung from the salmon ladder, had stopped his climb to stare down at her. Even from this distance, she could see his eyes narrowed in concern.

_Smile, Felicity. Smile like nothing’s wrong_. “No need to keep me warm, Oliver. No, I don’t mean warm like, like – I mean, no, thank you. I’m fine.”

He dropped from the second-highest rung. She never understood how he didn’t shatter something when he did that, how he landed in a deep crouch and stood like he’d only been picking up a pen.

He grabbed his shirt, but stopped next to her before slipping it on.

She stared at her screens, willing him to keep moving. _Keep going, Oliver. Go over to your arrows or Digg or anything_. She knew it was coming, though, and braced herself.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he said. And put his hand on her shoulder.

There was nothing much to the gesture. Sometimes he would rub her shoulder blade with his thumb. Sometimes he’d squeeze before letting go. It had become habit for him now, but she doubted it would ever be routine for her. No matter how much she prepared, no matter how much she scolded herself, no matter how many layers of cloth kept his skin from hers.

His hand was warm from gripping the salmon ladder. He held onto that bar so tightly she sometimes saw him flex his fingers after, but his touch was always light on her. Not timid, but careful. Purposeful.

She leaned into him like she always did—she couldn’t not.

He slid his hand down her arm before breaking away at the elbow. Static lifted the fibers of her sleeve, the skin underneath just as charged.

Digg smiled at her from across the room. She spun back to her screens, pushed up her sleeves—her very strategic sleeves, which didn’t seem to helping after all—and focused.


End file.
